


On Freckled Skin And Phantom Limbs

by Quecksilver_Eyes



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Disabled Character, F/F, NSFW, Trans Female Character, also susan's prosthetics are extra and pretty and we adore that about her, fae kisses (and by extension dryad kisses) bloom into freckles and BOY is lucy freckled, implied nsfw, in which there are prosthetics and freckled kisses, ish, lucy pevensie is trans, multiple ones in fact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 06:14:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15745917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quecksilver_Eyes/pseuds/Quecksilver_Eyes
Summary: When Lucy is twenty, her hair in sharp edges at her neck, her skin a map of all the kisses that raised, that loved her, she sighs into wooden skin as her own skin grows freckles at her hipbones, her chest, her shoulders, her thighs. Amarantha is no longer a whispering gust of blossoming wind, her voice a frozen whisper, she is solid wood and soft bark, blooming into Lucy’s arms with a giggle.or:The Valiant Queen, her arm, and her freckles.





	On Freckled Skin And Phantom Limbs

When Lucy is twenty, her hair in sharp edges at her neck, her skin a map of all the kisses that raised, that loved her, she sighs into wooden skin as her own skin grows freckles at her hipbones, her chest, her shoulders, her thighs. Amarantha is no longer a whispering gust of blossoming wind, her voice a frozen whisper, she is solid wood and soft bark, blooming into Lucy’s arms with a giggle.

There are flowers on the bedsheets, in Lucy’s hair and on her stomach and Amarantha’s eyes are soft and green as her tree’s leaves. “My Queen”, she says, and breathes into Lucy’s scarred skin, kisses the wound on her shoulder. It is still red and aching, and Lucy still tries to lift an arm she lost on the battlefield.

“Come here”, she says and arches her back, presses her hand into Amarantha’s back. Amarantha laughs, a soft sound like wind blowing through Lucy’s hair.

 

* * *

 

 

“Losing a limb isn’t the worst part”, Susan says, her hands in Edmund’s hair, his eyes closed. “The worst part is waking up to find yourself having lost a limb, still feeling it press against the fabric.” She brushes Edmund’s bangs back, and he opens his healthy eye and smiles. Lucy runs her hands over the smooth metal of the arm the dwarves forged for her, and frowns.

“It’s cold”, she says and Susan hums as she weaves a purple hyacinth into Edmund’s dark hair, her bracelets jangle with every movement.

“It’ll warm up”, she says and shifts in her seat. (She’s wearing the iron prosthetics today, with flowers etched into them, roses and cherry blossoms ranking around her thighs.)

 

* * *

 

 

“My Queen”, Amarantha whispers, her lips brushing Lucy’s chest. “Wherever are your thoughts?” She kisses Lucy’s chest, her clavicle, her neck and Lucy shifts her hand against Amarantha’s back.

“My arm”, she says and Amarantha sits up, her weight against Lucy’s pelvis.

“Do you still feel it?”, she asks, her cherry blossoms still and unmoving around them.

Lucy nods and bucks her hips. “Take my mind off it.”

Amarantha smiles, her teeth sharp and white against her wooden skin, and lowers herself again. “As you wish, your Majesty.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You have new freckles”, Peter says, his shivering hands brushing her shoulders. He touches the wound and Lucy doesn’t flinch. Instead, she throws her left arm around him and kisses his cheek.

“Good morning”, she says into his tunic and Peter chuckles, a sound deep in his chest.

“Good morning, my Queen.” He kisses the top of her head. “Slept well?”

Lucy laughs and turns away from him.

 

* * *

 

 

“There’s a hickey on your neck”, Susan says and smoothes out Lucy’s collar. Her lips are painted the colour of riping blackberries, her hair still flowing openly over her back. Edmund’s hands are combing through it, and he chuckles as Lucy shrugs.

“So what?”, she says and sits down next to Edmund.

Susan says nothing. Instead, she starts painting her nails.

“I’m next”, Edmund says and ties the small braid to a knot, starts again at the top of Susan’s head. “I’m sure Susan has a pink for your nails.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Lucy was just eight years old and watched Narnia first freeze to death, then thaw to spring, she saw her first dryad, just a gust of wind carrying cherry blossoms and a song. Peter’s unshaking hand had grasped hers, Susan had stroked her hair, and the country came alive around them, the cherry blossoms sticking to her skin, her English clothes, her hair. She wasn’t yet Queen, wasn’t yet crowned and hadn’t yet seen Narnia fight, but when she saw the Dryad taking their first breath after 100 years of silence, she felt as she did when she was 6 years old and put on one of Susan’s old dresses.

 

* * *

 

 

“You don’t have to wear it”, Susan says as she paints Lucy’s nails a soft pink. “If you don’t like it.”

Lucy shrugs and thinks of her dagger, and how it’s harder to throw, with just one arm, her weight in all the wrong places, thinks of Amarantha and her bark on her skin.  
“I’ll wear it to battle”, she says and Susan hums.

“Good.” Edmund arches his back and pulls himself to his feet. “You need your balance.”

 

* * *

 

 

Amarantha’s smile wrinkles the bark on her face, warps the shape of her face and Lucy kisses the dimple on her right cheek. The fabric of her bedsheets feels soft against her skin, and she can almost feel the fingers of her right hand against Amarantha’s waist. She flexes the fingers on her left hand instead.

“Are you feeling better?”, Amarantha asks, her hair a cascade of flowers against Lucy’s skin.

Lucy stretches, lets the blanket slip from her and smiles. “I don’t know”, she says. “Maybe we’ll have to do that again.”

Amarantha laughs and Lucy feels like looking at spring’s first thaw.


End file.
